Climbing Ivy
by TheGoldenBelles
Summary: When a heist on a supposedly abandoned castle goes terribly wrong, Bellarose, a down on her luck pickpocket, is faced with a choice: Either lose her freedom or lose her family. A Beauty and the Beast retelling.


Bellarose stood on the slick doorstep of the manor house as the door was slammed in her face by her former employer. She had just lost the best job she had ever had and all because she had to get ahead of herself and pinch that stupid silver spoon. The former housemaid stood on the steps for a few moments more, but when she saw the head housekeeper's angry eyes peeking out the second floor window, right above the perfectly trimmed hedges, she knew that she had to leave immediately or they would call the sheriff on her.

Sighing and turning to walk down the steps, she sloshed her feet into the murky puddles and ultimately into the dreary afternoon. The few coins she had saved up wouldn't last for very long. She cursed, startling an old chicken farmer who she was walking past. She was so frustrated and angry at herself that she had half a mind to kick one of those chickens to who-knows-where. The only source of income she had to support herself and her father had disappeared and it was entirely her fault. Stupid stupid stupid. How could she have messed up such an opportunity? She had nowhere to go now.

Although, Bellarose didn't worry so much about herself but about her father. His chronic pain had been getting worse. In his letters, he attempted to make it sound as if he was getting better but Belle could see right through his shaky script. The letters were shorter and not as frequent. The thought had crossed her mind to go back home to her village and get married but she was apprehensive. She only left her father and her village because there were no jobs. People were dying, moving away. Jobs were scarce. So were bachelors.

Belle decided not to tell her father that she lost her job. It would only worry him more. She never made the decision to wander the streets jobless, cold, and hungry, but that's how she ended up.

Days later, she was leaning against a building in an alley and true to her predictions, she had not had anything to eat in the past two days and hadn't been able to find another job. Word of a thieving housemaid always travels quickly. Night began to fall. She was dozing there in the nearly constant drizzling rain when she became aware of a figure coming toward her. Bellarose was dizzy and disoriented as a boy about her age crouched down in front of her.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"Do I look okay?" Bellarose replied.

"Well, no. Not really" he replied with a smirk. "But I can help you if you want."

"I don't need your kind of help", she retorted.

"That's not what I meant," he said. "I mean I can help you, but you'll have to work for it."

"I think I just remember telling you-"

"No, I don't mean that kind of work. Come with me if you're interested." He began to slouch away in the rain, which was beginning to fall harder. Bellarose stared after him for a moment, debating.

She was near starvation though, and didn't have much of a choice.

She thought about her father and how much he needed her.

She got up weakly and began to follow him.

Two years later...

Bellarose and Raston walked down the street toward the stage coach. They handed the driver the small package, giving him instructions to deliver it her father, Jacques the old librarian who lived in Auxlier, a small village on the edge of the kingdom of Forenoire. After the coach left, its wheels spinning up mud, they continued their argument.

"Belle, for the last time, you are not coming with us!" Raston said irritably.

"Why are you being so ridiculous? You've been instructing me in how to steal for the past two years, I think I'm good enough to handle a heist on the Dark Castle!"

"No, you're only 17, and a girl to boot. You're not coming with us so stop asking."  
Belle began to pout, but not wanting to prove his point, she stopped.

"You're only a year older than I am" She continued. "And you know I can handle it, you've taken me on big heists before."

"I've been a thief for a lot longer than you have. I was probably born into a long line of thieves for all I know." He replied.

Reminding her that he didn't remember his past was a low blow, but it worked and she stopped arguing. They continued on their way down the street, and Belle tried not to do or say anything that would make him even more angry. After he had taken her in that night two years ago, he had taught her how to steal. They had started out small, pickpocketing mostly, and then they had moved on to larger projects. All the while she had grown to admire Raston more and more, but he obviously didn't think of her the same way and continued to treat her like a younger, annoying sister. If Belle could pull off this heist by herself, she thought, maybe he wouldn't think of her as inferior anymore.

The coach had been on the outskirts of town so their walk to the tavern was not very far. Just down a few back alleys and then on a worn yet nearly invisible path through the woods. The sun was just going down when they arrived at the tavern, The Harlot and the Earl. It was off one of the side roads in the kingdom of Lethrendel. The dining hall was full of people, Raston's friends and comrades and fellow thieves, raunchy barmaids, and other randoms. It was loud and smoky, yet it was home. Marie, the owner of the Tavern and head cook, came out with bowls of greasy soup and warm loaves of sour bread for the two of them. Raston handed her a few coins, and then they ate. As it was every night, all of the men were laughing loudly and telling stories. Belle slid down into a corner in the shadows and just watched and listened it it all. One of the men, began to tell the story of the Beast in the Darke Castle. Because this was widely known as their next heist, everyone quieted down and listened.

"This is the story of the Beast of the Darke Castle." The storyteller began, it was followed by hoots and jeering. The man glared around the room with his old, glassy eyes until everyone quieted down again and he continued.

"Centuries ago, a curse was cast on the Darke Castle, a curse that no one could explain. People got sick and died. The gardens all were overgrown by thorn bushes that tore at anyone who dared to try to cut them back, and food would not grow. The animals stopped producing and soon they too became sick and eventually died. Servants quit, and the King and Queen at that time packed up and left. And the castle was left abandoned for centuries. What the King and Queen did not realize was that a fairie had hidden... something magnificent in the dungeons of the Castle. And the fairie had placed the curse on the Castle to drive its inhabitants out in order to protect whatever it is and keep it a secret. The thorns ensured that no one would get near it, for if they even got over the great walls they would be torn apart."

The storyteller paused to look around the room, his gaze lingering on Raston and his crew. He took a breath and then continued. "The fairies were not satisfied however, there had been too many attempted trespassings, so they cast another spell. This time the spell was directed towards a man, and he was turned into a beast, both mind and body. The Beast is truly a hideous thing. He is a tall, hulking creature with matted fur all over and horns and claws that could slice you apart. He is horrific and ugly yet magnificently created. He roams the castle, the grounds, and the woods surrounding the Dark Castle. Anyone who has dared to even go near the Castle has never been seen from again. The Beast is hardly man anymore. He... no, I won't even say "he". It, it is nothing but a ruthless monster. He preys on anybody who comes near the castle but he specifically seems to prefer maidens. What he does with all the accumulated bodies... no one really knows. But is said that he hides the bodies in the dungeon with whatever it is that he's guarding."

He paused again to once again scan the room. Everyone, even those who had been jeering earlier were listening eagerly. Their faces quickly betrayed their impatience of him stopping again. He continued.

"I warn you, not one person has survived even venturing near the Dark Castle. A cursed castle with a bloodthirsty Beast to guard it is indeed a place to steer clear of. Those who go in never come back out."

The storyteller leaned back against his chair and turned back to his stew. Raston scoffed, quite loudly. The storyteller glanced up.

"Do you doubt the story, boy?"

"Yes, actually, I do," Raston replied.

Everyone knew of Raston's sharp tongue. But it was the fact that he aware of his looks and wit that got him into the most trouble. Belle would often find Raston crouching in the alley behind the Harlot and the Earl, clutching half of his bloody face in his hands because he had smarted off to the older boys. Belle would always be there to stitch him up and delicately admonish his actions. It never helped, though. He just did it again and again until he finally became someone that their merry band of misfits respected.

Now, Raston didn't even bother to stand up to speak his mind. He just sat there, mopping up the dregs of his soup with the bread in his other hand. "WelI, I certainly have nothing to fear. What kind of fool would believe that silly story, anyway?"

The old man laughed, like Raston was a small child that had just said something adorable and amusing.

"Just because you don't believe it doesn't make it untrue. Do you think that monsters and fairies and ghosts and witches just... disappear when you say you don't believe in them?"

For some odd reason, his comment made everyone in the tavern give pause.

Raston didn't hesitate to reply."How do you even know it's true, though? How would anyone know all of that if it's such a big secret? Sounds like a load of rubbish to me. Whatever we encounter next week, I sincerely doubt that it will be... oh, what did you say? Ah, yes, a 'bloodthirsty beast'."

Belle knew enough about him that she could tell that Raston was obviously trying to discredit the story and restore confidence in the rest of his gang. He obviously couldn't have his friends and fellow thieves backing out of his first big heist.

The storyteller smiled smugly. "I'm not forcing you to believe the story. However, it is a word of warning. Be safe on your siege."

To these words, Raston nodded and held up his glass of ale. Everyone joined in, shouting words of praise and encouragement towards Raston's gang.

Belle tuned out everyone else as they began to get loud and raunchy again. She knew that the story was nothing more than an old wives tale, made up only to scare children. A young child would do anything if they were told a Beast would come after them if they didn't obey their parents. At the same time however, Belle began to wonder just how much of the story was fiction. And what facts it was created from. Or what it was created to hide, to keep people away from the castle. She was at once certain that there was something in the castle, something worth protecting. And because it could not possibly be all for some silly curse or to prevent anyone from falling through a hole in the floor and breaking their neck, then it must be something of value. The story, instead of scaring her away, just made her even more curious to go explore whatever secrets were behind its "enchanted" walls.

Belle staggered to her feet. The long day had caught up with her and she was suddenly extremely tired. Keeping in the shadows and out of sight, (the men were getting drunk and grabby) she made her way to the kitchen. Once inside, she was greeted by Marie, who was pouring yet more tankards of ale for the men.

"Scary stories tonight." Marie said casually, with a laugh.

"No more scary than the idea of monsters under the bed" Belle replied, but she laughed too and then staggered again.

"You look worn out, dear. You should get to bed now." Marie advised. "You have a big heist to plan for!"

Belle stared at her, suddenly wide awake and alert. "What do you mean?" She asked.

"I see the way you look at him, sweetheart. I'm not some stupid harlot. At least, I didn't get this far because I was stupid," Marie corrected with a laugh. It was no secret what her profession had been exclusively during her younger days, and she had kept her looks and figure well. "We're both women, and Raston is a very handsome young man. I know that it would be no use to try to talk you out of going, and I'm not the type to tattle. A girl has to make her own mistakes by herself. I just advise you to think about what you are doing, and be careful. I'd hate for those stories about the Beast to turn out to be true." Marie looked at Belle steadily for a moment before sweeping through the doors into the crowd of men, who cheered upon the arrival of more ale.

Belle looked at the door for a few seconds, but then the panic that had hit her during Marie's little speech quickly faded. Belle hurried into the back room, past the barrels of ale and the giant pots and pans that overtook the counters off the kitchen. From the kitchen, there was a narrow hallway that had several storage rooms branching off from it. One of the rooms had at once been a closet but was now her place of residence. It was a large closet, more of a small room really. She couldn't abide anything smaller, because small places scared her. She couldn't stand being cooped up.

"Finally," Belle muttered as she flopped down on her small bed with its large quilt, not even bothering to take off her boots or her trousers. All of her energy drained out of her completely as her head hit the pillow. Unfortunately at that point, although her body was screaming for sleep, her mind sprang wide awake. So she planned her solo heist of the Darke Castle, but while she did so, she completely forgot about Marie's warning of staying safe. It didn't take long before sleep finally overtook her thoughts.


End file.
